We’d have to find another SUV later. My kids were in trouble. I had no doubt. My fucking ex and her husband were monsters, zombies and, apparently, Julie didn’t know enough not to attack and eat her fucking children.
“We have to move.” I waved Allison out of the SUV. I kept looking in all directions. Too many cars left abandoned without people. Where were the people, the zombies? They had to be close. “You know what? Hold on.”
I went to the rear of the SUV. “You have the First Aid kit?”
She held it up. “Right here.”
I opened the back door, lifted the false floor and fished around for the SUV’s tire iron. I handed it to Allison. “There ya go.”
She took it, held it; eyes snaked over it like it was filled with poison. “I don’t know, Chase. I’m not sure giving me this is going to make much of a difference. I don’t know that I could kill a person.”
“Allison, Alley, you see these things? You see anything that’s happened since we left work? While we were at work, honey? Anything?” I didn’t have time for this. At every turn, she was a problem. Uncertain, and wishy-washy. “Allison, take the fucking thing. And if I get into trouble, bash its head in. It’s pretty simple. You love me, right? A couple. I’d do anything for you. Hope you’d do anything for me. See how this is—how it looks? So if I’m in trouble, you see one of those things on me, maybe about to bite my throat off of my neck—what are you going to do?” I pointed at her. This wasn’t rhetorical. I didn’t want an answer, I expected one. We were definitely at a pivotal point in our relationship. “Dear?”
“Bash its head in,” she said. Barely above a whisper. But I heard it. I heard her. I could be a dick about it, have her say it again, only louder. Didn’t matter. She’d said it.
“You better mean it, okay? That’s all I’m saying. You better mean it. One of those zombie’s gets anywhere near you, know what I’m doing? Honey, do you know what I’m going to do?” Again, I pointed at her.
“Bash its head in.”
I smiled. Snapped my fingers. “Now you got it. Now you get it.” I gave her a kiss, a quick hug. “We’re going to figure something out. I just need my kids,” I spoke softly. I knew, regardless, that I’d been a dick. “Okay? I need your help to get there, to get them. And then we’re out of here.”
“To Mexico?”
“Right. As of now, it’s what I’m thinking.”
“And we’re going to be okay?”
I squeezed her hand. “We have to be strong. Right now, we’ve got to be like, I don’t know, warriors. Can you do that?”
She nodded. “I can.”
“Us. Together,” I said, used the back of my hand to brush the tears off her cheeks.
“We got this. Let’s get your . . . What was that?”
I’d heard it. From off the shoulder. Something climbing up the sloped embankment. Street lights lit the road. Anything off the road was shrouded in darkness. Mostly.
I saw it. Them. Faces.
“Allison, run! Run, Allison!”
Chapter Eleven
The keys were in the ignition. It was no SUV, but the Chrysler at least looked like it had balls. Big tires and a solid frame. It was better than walking. Except, it didn’t start. Key turned; something spun and churned, but failed to connect. I need that something to kick over and the engine to rev into life.
“They’re getting closer.” Allison sat next to me, on her knees. She stared out windows—not just one, all of them—looking for zombies. Since ditching the SUV at the start of the expressway ramp, we’d been stuck, working to find a vehicle ahead of the disabled and abandoned cars that clogged the road leading toward Lyell Avenue.
“Think it’s flooded,” I said. I wanted to punch the dash. It wouldn’t do a thing to help, except make me feel better.
“How long until it’s not flooded.”
Time was always the best way to fix such a problem. “A few more seconds before I try again.”
“I don’t think we’ve got that. They’re right outside the car.” Allison held her tire iron in two hands. Not like a ball player up to bat. More like a child clutching a blankie after a nightmare.
“How many you see?” My dad had showed me a way to beat a flooded engine. Thing was, if it didn’t work, then I’d be guaranteed to have flooded it more.
“Three. No,” she said, “four. I see four. All coming up behind the car.”
“That it? Just four?” Four was plenty. Too many. But four was better than ten, or even five.
“It’s all I see. So far. Just them, just four.”
“I’m going to try something. If the car doesn’t start, you slide over. You get ready to try it again,” I said.
“And where will you be?”
“I’m going to get rid of those things. I don’t know how this works. If they smell us, or each other. Know what I mean? All I’ve got is what I’ve seen in movies. How fucked up is that?” The call I’d taken at work, from the scientist, he’d said the things were hungry, and could only be killed for good if the head—the brain—was destroyed. I mean, that was as zombie as you get. Walking Dead shit right here.
“You’re not getting out of the car,” she said.
“We don’t have time to argue.”
“Try it,” she said, “just do it.”
Cars were all fuel injection. This thing shouldn’t happen. Might not even be flooded. Might just be broken. I pushed the accelerator to the floor. All the way. I didn’t pump the pedal. Just held it all the way down. I turned the key.
Realized I was holding my breath when nothing happened, and I exhaled. “Shit.”
I reached for the door handle. I didn’t think it was flooded. Didn’t think it was going to start. Ever. Effectively, Allison and I were trapped.
“Where are you going?”
“This car isn’t going to work.” I gripped my tire iron. “Wait here.”
I looked out the back windshield. Four fucking zombies. One. Two. Three. Four.
When I opened the door, I climbed out quickly, feet on loose gravel, my balance shot to shit, my right foot slid, leg extended and I went down. I didn’t scream when I banged my elbow on the pavement, but I winced.
Allison screamed.
If surprise had been in our favor, maybe I’d of had the upper hand. On my ass outside the car with Allison calling out asking if I’m okay, no, nah. The element of surprise was wasted. Gone.
One of the things stumbled around toward me. It seemed slow moving. Not fast. I was trying to learn, to figure out what kind of enemy we were up against. It was like anything else. Some were fast, others slow. I’d bet some smart and some dumb as all get out. The only thing in common that I’d noticed across the board, was that they were ugly, horrendously ugly.
I took a swipe with the iron at the thing’s leg. The thunk against bone felt hollow, and did little to slow the zombie. As it dropped to its knees, and brought its face close to mine, I tried again. Think I screamed as I swung the iron at its head. The way it had me pinned, the open car door, I had no room to angle, no way to gain momentum. I tried punching him with my weapon. It did little.
He opened his mouth. Did I see flesh wedged and flapping between the small gap in his front teeth?
It wasn’t that I didn’t want to die. It was that I couldn’t. My kids were out there. Scared shitless. Alone. Their fucking mother was trying to eat them. I couldn’t die now, not like this – not just hours into this nightmare. I’ve been fighting against shit all my life, more so since the divorce. I wasn’t giving up here, going to die here, let this drool-faced beast eat me!
When his head shot forward, I thought it was over. Thought I was wrong, that I was going to die. When I saw the tire iron sticking out of a split skull, I let my eyes look up.